


Hiding in the Stars

by urfriendlyneighborhoodpan



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Consensual, F/M, Science Fiction, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 20:49:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13349259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urfriendlyneighborhoodpan/pseuds/urfriendlyneighborhoodpan
Summary: After a series of cataclysmic events left the world in virtual ruins, over half of the population left Earth in search of a better world. When they finally return, they are surprised to find how much things have changed. The ultimate goal is to improve humanity. Through whatever means they can.





	1. Prologue

What woke him first was the impact of his body hitting solid ground, the strange trembling of the walls around him. Before his mind could even comprehend the amount of pain he was feeling having fallen from such height, streams of white light shot through the small window above him and slid across the length of the room. His instinct kicked in and he rolled himself underneath the very last bunk before it could touch him, too. When it didn't go away, he figured it wasn't harmful.

Forming a fist, he moved onto his back and punched straight up. There was an annoyed grunt, which quickly turned into a confused mumble and then a panicked gasp.

"Shut up," he hissed, crawling out from underneath. The boy on the bed tugged the sheets from his legs, face white and afraid. "Get everyone out of here. I'm gonna tell the Old Man."

"What's going on?" the boy asked, sliding out of bed. "What is that?"

"I don't know, but I don't trust it."

He ducked under the tattered curtain at the doorway and hurried down the hall. All was pitch black, and for a moment nothing seemed out of place. The ground suddenly shook, and he realized what it was that had shoved him off his bed. He stumbled, nearly slammed right into the wall, caught himself on his hands and shot around the corner before he could lose his footing. Already, he could hear people waking in a fuss from their rooms.

The Old Man was standing in the middle of the hall at the next turn surrounded by a group of worried adults demanding to know what was happening. He skittered to a halt before he could slam into him.

"There's a—light," he panted, pointing back toward where he came from. "Coming from outside—it came out of nowhere."

He didn't know what the hard look that came over the Old Man's face meant, but he almost felt as if everything was going to be okay. He moved aside when the Old Man began to march down the hall, trailed along behind him with soothed nerves and loose hands. They were met in the middle by the other boys, and that was when the Old Man turned to him, rested a withered hand on his shoulder, and told him, "Take the children and hide in the trees. We'll handle this."

He knew exactly what that meant. He nodded, gestured the boys toward him, and tried not to look back as the adults continued down the hall. "Get the girls," he said to one boy. "Bring them to the courtyard."

It was cold outside, the night sky black and strewn with gray clouds. The vines crawling the stones beneath his feet looked more like snakes in that moment and the branches of the trees towering on the skirts of the courtyard resembled claws. He sent two boys for supplies just to busy himself, counted and then counted again the bodies in the group—began all over again with a sigh when the girls joined them. When they all stood before him, all thin and wiry and scared, he stooped and gathered the youngest of them in his arms and turned his back on them.

"Come on," he said, and led them past the courtyard and into the woods. There was a time, back when he was real little, where the fear of losing everything had been so palpable amongst his people that a safety net was crafted out for them deep within the trees. It was only a mile away from their village, but it was so well hidden if even a single scrap of the directions there was forgotten, one would lose themselves forever in the forest.

It was only by miracle that he managed to remember at all.

Down a steep trench and through a cluster of ferns and weeds and under the arched roots of a massive tree was a ladder made up of twisted vines and hemp, it led to a home hidden up in the leaves. More rope and vines connected this house to another hidden in a neighboring tree and yet another in another. Four whole homes had been crafted before his people had decided the fear unreasonable.

Should this new development prove to be harmless, it would be.

"Stay here," he told them, setting down the little girl in the middle of the first home.

"Where are you going?" one girl asked him, clutching a bundle of blankets and packs in her arms.

"I'm gonna check on them. No matter what I find, I will come back."

The climb back down and the journey back toward his village felt much longer.

Upon catching sight of his village, he decided to move through the trees around it. The light had come from the other side, and the only way for him to see the source was to face it. He stepped lightly, mulch squishing underneath his bare feet, feeling out for and avoiding every twig in his path. The skittering of small animals made him tense, keep low to the ground the deeper he moved into the forest, the further he went from the children he was entrusted with.

When the first traces of the white light that had started it all pierced the darkness, he slowed down. He rose to the balls of his feet, fingers open, body curved, ready to run at any hint of danger. At the downward slope of a hill, he squatted, slowed down so much he made no sound—stilled completely when he finally saw what he had been looking for.

This enormous black shape sat atop dozens and dozens of crushed trees, that white light a single rectangle on the side where these silhouetted figures stood, and just at the end of this long ramp his people stood led by the Old Man.

Never in his life had the Old Man ever looked so small and frail.

He waited with bated breath for something to happen, clenched his fists so hard his arms hurt.

Something rippled through his people, something like fear and uncertainty, and even from here he could see the moments before the fall, the moments before it all went straight to hell.

There was a shift, the first figure standing on that ramp raising one long arm to extend a hand out to the Old Man—a flash of red snapped from their palm and in the blink of an eye the Old Man had completely vanished.

In his place, suspended for just a second, was a collection of dust that rained down and scattered on the dirt floor.

He hardly even heard his people start screaming in terror before he took off, tore right through the forest and back toward the children he was entrusted with.

The fear he felt settled deep in his chest and tears burned down his cheeks realizing this new burden on his shoulders, as the oldest of them. He would have to protect them now, he would have to provide for them now, he would have to make sure they survived all of this, and it made his insides twist with ice—how could he possibly do any of that by himself?

He was only twelve.

.x. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set six years later.

The walls of the pod began to emit a gentle blue light as she regained consciousness. The initial cold she felt was immediately overcome by the sensors pressing in around her, responding and altering her temperature back to normal. Things began to click back into activity, screens flicking back on, a robotic voice sounding from unseen speakers greeting and informing her of any developments.

"Six years since initial dispatch," it said as the sensors began to release her. "Forty minutes and thirty two seconds until arrival at new base."

"Is there anything I need to be aware of?" she asked, stretching out her arms and bending to touch her toes.

"Attempts to communicate with the indigenous have proven successful. There have been volunteers for experimentation, and a peculiar find has altered the mission slightly."

She paused, surprised. "What was found?"

"The natives have a stronger gene pool than your kind. Years on your planet of origin with no technology to protect them has made them resilient and adaptable. Physically, emotionally, and psychologically they are superior."

She bristled. That was to be expected, of course. Earth was a force of nature, she'd always heard, and even in their prime humanity had been unable to best its ferocity. That was the only reason she existed, after all. A large portion of her kind had abandoned their Origin for a better world. They had evolved to withstand space, the Mothership that she had spent her entire life in. The conditions had been set to perfection, to benefit her kind in ways Earth never had.

It was only natural they would be so different from those who had decided to stay behind.

"How has the mission changed?" she asked, moving toward the screens.

They flickered, switched to a view of the world she was currently headed toward. She was immediately stricken by its vibrancy, the shimmering blue of its seas and the pearly clouds swirling in its air.

It was breathtaking.

"Integration of respective gene pools has been added onto the mission."

.x.

A single breeze wafted in from the window, the open doorway, and granted him relief from the stifling heat of the midsummer day. He had stopped in the middle of his workout to yank his shirt off and toss it across the room, and now he was stopping for his shorts as well.

The sudden appearance of a little girl at the doorway made him rethink that decision quickly.

"What d'you want?" he asked, moving back into position to continue his push-ups.

"We were wondering if you wanted to eat dinner with us," she said, small voice hopeful.

"Who's we?"

"Mostly me," she admitted, kicking the floor. "We don't have those bonfires anymore and I—"

"They're dangerous, kid," he said, shifting until he was sitting. "Those Sky Freaks are getting bolder. They're bound to find us if we keep pulling shit like that."

"I know," she mumbled, bowing her head. "But we're never together like that no more—all of us. We keep hiding now."

"It's for the best," he insisted, caught how her shoulders deflated and added, "We'll do something soon. My birthday's coming up, we can have a cookout then. Tonight, I keep watch."

"You always keep watch," she muttered, although she was visibly happier.

"And they haven't caught us once. Funny that, ain't it? Now go on and help out the others pick fruit or something. Gotta get all that done before nightfall."

Once she was gone, he stood to pull the sheet over the doorway and kicked off his shorts. Ever since hitting puberty, he'd been careful about his state of dress around the rest. The oldest of them was still only fourteen, and he was already brushing adulthood. He returned to his workout, switching to sit-ups.

No, they hadn't been caught yet but once or twice while the rest of them had slept he had heard the unmistakable sounds of footsteps way down below. It was through miracle alone not a single one of those Sky Freaks had had the mind to look up once.

Needless to say, he was on edge now, constantly wondering if this would be the last time he did anything, if the children would see the light of morning again. He had cut off their senseless festivities, regardless of how much they had depended on them, knowing that at any second they would be spotted through the trees. He pulled rules now, made sure every light was out by sundown and every body was in bed by dark. Up by dawn and down by dusk, those were the rules and he had no plans of changing them any time soon.

And every night he sat on the highest branch he could and trained his eyes on the area where their village used to be, never looking away until the very first rays of daylight. That was his life now, and he had accepted it.

He wiped his forehead, caught his breath, and flopped onto his back.

He didn't know how long he could keep doing this, didn't even see an end at all. Relocating would be their last option, but he figured if they came to that point, it would probably be too late.

He should have prepared more.

.x.


	3. Chapter 3

"An honor to have you, Lieutenant," the Commander of the ship said as she straightened from her bow.

The base was encircled by rich vegetation, settled just miles from a body of water where a small village of fisherman took up residence. She had caught sight of them during her landing, but had not the time to become acquainted with them. Upon arrival, she was ushered from her pod to the main ship, filled in on any information she had not been privy to during her trip, and brought to the cockpit.

No doubt, she would be briefed on the newest addition to the mission.

"An honor to be here, Commander," she replied, to which they smiled pleasantly.

"I will not waste any of your time," the Commander began, turning toward the expansive window. "I assume you must be very tired from your journey."

"Not at all," she assured. "I spent the most of it in deep sleep. I wanted to preserve myself best for my arrival."

"A fine decision," they commended, and then glanced her up and down. "You seem to be in tip top shape—a fine decision, indeed. Now, I am sure you are aware of the change in plans."

"Yes, I was hoping you could elaborate further."

"Of course." They gestured toward another officer, who moved toward the controls to punch in a few keys. The window darkened, switched into a screen to display diagrams and graphs, all data gathered from their research. "Our goal is to better our species. The decades we have spent raking the universe for a planet to call our own have been fruitless, but not all for nothing. During our absence, Earth has recovered in ways we never could have anticipated. And those who had stayed behind and endured have flourished with it."

"You want us to reproduce with them," she surmised, cutting straight to the point.

"If you could only see them, Lieutenant. They are a tenacious lot, so full of life and vigor. Why, with our intelligence and wisdom and their durability and vivacity, a superior species could be created."

She lowered her gaze. "I understand your logic, Commander, but if I am under the correct impression, you have not gained  _all_ of their trust."

"Unfortunately, you are. Our first attempt had been a complete failure, but many neighboring communities have come around and accepted us onto their land. Some of them have even offered themselves up for testing. If things keep going in this direction, we would have no problem intermingling with their society."

"And those that have  _not_ come around?"

"Well. Time is not completely on our side, but we are willing to do what we can with what we have." They turned another smile to her. "How about it, Lieutenant? Do you find this mission agreeable?"

"It is as you say, Commander. Our goal is to better our species. And if that means we must form relations with the indigenous, so be it."

.x.

With the sun already sinking into the horizon, he set out to herd the children back into their homes. Their small, makeshift village had expanded some. By no means had it gained any more people, but through collective force more houses had been built within the trees. Intricate webs of rope and vine connected each one to the next, complex systems crafted out of bark and leaves for easier transport. He watched one kid swing a tiny basket of apples to another, distributing them out to everyone equally; when one fell into his hands, he felt a corner of his lips turn upward.

Small victories, knowing such a sense of camaraderie had borne from their loss.

He gave a short whistle, signaling for everyone to stop their activities. At once the swinging stopped, chatter died away, and the children began to climb toward their homes. Once there was no movement outside at all, he rounded each home for a customary head count.

"All here," he sighed, and returned to his post.

Often times, he held so still for so long every single one of his muscles ached by dawn, he had to drag himself back home to stretch out across the floor and will feeling back into his body. He knew one day it would all backfire on him, but he was stubborn to the very last word. He refused to move until the first light of day, eyes darting in the darkness and hands gripping a sharpened spear tight enough to make his knuckles ache.

Every night, a couple of those Sky Freaks marched their way through the trees down below, as if making rounds. They bring lights with them, but never point them upward—that's the important part, he thinks, but also the suspicious part.

He didn't doubt they already knew what laid over head. The only mystery was why they never bothered to burn them down like they had his old village.

He watched them intently, watched them until they disappeared again and kept on watching the area in which they disappeared in. He watched and watched until his eyes burned and the trees around him began to gray.

Tonight, they did not appear.

Alarm rang through him like a bell, shook him down to his core and made him lightheaded. It was the first time he left his post, leaping from a cluster of tightly wound branches to another farther down below. He peered through leaves and vines, slipped from one tree to the next until he came full circle.

When he returned to his post, the sky was beginning to soften with light.

It was then he realized his heart was pulsing between his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard. Their absence, while welcome, could not have meant anything good.

Following his instinct had never been a question, and he wouldn't be stopping now.

As the children began to awaken, he set aside his musings and relaxed his face back into indifference.

.x.


	4. Chapter 4

The officers had been given the night off to join together in the mess hall for a welcoming celebration. A feast had been served and she had, after much convincing, stuffed herself full of food she had not known back on the Mothership. The juices from the meat had filled her mouth, rich sauce and spice and sweet, crisp fruit—all coated her tongue so finely she almost believed she had found nirvana that night. Over brimming cups of water and shimmering golden liquid, stories were passed between tables; all asking her how things had changed back home and in turn answering every question she could think to ask through her euphoria-clouded mind. She smiled thoughtlessly and erupted into laughter and spat out her drink and melted into their noises.

She very nearly forgot herself.

By the time she made it to her new quarters, her limbs were heavy and her cheeks hurt and she could not formulate a single thought. She fell into her cot and was unconscious before her face ever met the pillow.

When she woke again, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Part of her mind recalled the previous night but she dared not acknowledge it. She stripped herself of her space suit and washed herself off and imagined all that swirled down the drain was the mask she had donned the night before. And as she pulled on her new uniform, she settled her face back into impassivity, back into cool and calculated. She slipped her weapons into place, smoothed the creases from her front, and sealed the door shut behind her.

"I would prefer to be assigned to a task immediately," she stated to the Commander when she had come across them in one of the many hallways of the ship. "If that would be agreeable."

"Not one to idle, I see. Well, there are two options: You may either take some time and explore this world for yourself—what we have been able to access, of course—or you may start on the mission immediately."

Her chest tingled at the prospect—to be able to  _see_ all that this world had to offer was enticing, made her mind stretch to picture what wonders she would discover—but it quieted once more when she recalled her vows as a soldier.

Duty always came first.

"I would like to know my part in the mission."

.x.

"If we're really careful, d'you think we can go fishin' someday?" a boy half his age asked, words whistling through the gap in his teeth.

He eyed the boy's bright face for a moment before casting his gaze back toward the other side of their little village. Some of the kids were repairing a system of ropes, what had been used to transfer things up from the ground. "Not a chance—least not until those Sky Freaks move on. We can't get to the ocean unless we get past them."

"Can't we go the other way?"

He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Mountains. It would take days to get through those, and even I don't know what's beyond 'em."

"I thought you knew everything."

"I don't know shit, kid."

"Know more than me."

He looked at the boy a little closer, frowning. At one time, his cheeks had been that full and soft, and his eyes had been just as big. He reached over, made a fist, and rubbed his knuckles into the top of the boy's head. When the boy smacked his hand away and stuck his lower lip out, he said, "'Course I know more than you, but that doesn't mean a damn thing if I don't know more than  _them_. Listen, you know when I showed you how to hunt?"

"Had to  _outsmart_ the bunnies," the boy mumbled, scratching his head.

"That's the point. Gotta be  _smarter_ than your prey—right now, they're smarter than us."

"We're their prey," the boy said, face paling.

"So now we gotta think like prey."

"Stay outta their way?"

"That's right. Way, way outta their way."

The boy was quiet a moment, settling down to watch, as he did, the other kids attempt to untangle the rope. They both knew, at some point, the kids would give up and turn pleading eyes to him; they both knew how much all of them depended on him. So the boy looked at him, willing to toss all of his fears onto his back, and asked, "What's gonna happen when they find us? The prey moves—we ain't movin.'"

Sure enough, the kids dropped the ropes in exasperation and all turned to look at him with helpless expressions, knowing he would help no matter what they did. And so he stood with a grunt and dusted himself off.

"They're not gonna find us," he said, and knew the boy would believe him.

.x.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading


	5. Chapter 5

The villagers varied so much in appearance she almost thought she had stepped into an entirely different world altogether. Some were so thin she feared every whipping breeze from the sea would snap their bones in half, while others had arms roped with muscle bigger than her own head. Most were dark skinned, browned by the sun and weathered by the saltwater, hair black and wild atop their heads. Some hardly wore any clothing at all, chests or thighs or whole backs bared for the elements to do with as they pleased. She reached up and touched the back of her own neck, the skin she had taken such pains to keep soft and supple and unblemished, and wondered at their recklessness.

There was something so fascinating about them.

They greeted her warmly, offered her baskets of vibrant fruit and marveled over her hair and displayed before her with such pride whole barrels of writhing, flapping, squirming fish, had even taken her wrist and brought it over to touch her fingers to the slippery scales.

An elderly man with a long, white beard smiled until his eyes crinkled up at her and nodded for her to take the spear he held. Wrapped around it were these colorful beads, thin and velvety strings, and they shone in the sun.

"Pretty," she commented, handing it back, and a young girl cooed the same about her hair.

"Meet the villagers," the Commander had told her. "Spend the day with them, they are kind people and they will welcome you into their homes. Eat the food they give you, extend only your best manners, and let them know they are safe with you. They have agreed to help us with our mission, and they are the only ones that have. Spend the day with them and decide for yourself who of them you are fondest of—they will be the one you fulfill your mission with."

And so she let them guide her into their sprawling village, let them put flowers and shells into her hair and laughed when they did. She ate what they offered and she learned their names, learned where each and every one lived and slept, what they did for a living, how they breathed the very air. She pushed up her sleeves and fished with them, cooked over an open fire and picked the bones from within.

It was already nightfall by the time she said goodbye, had watched the sun sink into the ocean and swallowed the emotion rising up her throat at its beauty, had seen more than her own imagination could handle for one day. They all touched their palms to her shoulders and back and arms and smiled blissfully as she drew away. The same little girl from before walked her up the beach and told her, "We were happy to have you," in a voice as soft as the breeze.

When she returned to the ship, she found the Commander heading toward the cockpit again.

"How did it go, Lieutenant?"

She allowed images to flow through her mind, the colors and the sounds and the smells and the oddly fulfilling stickiness of her skin. She let herself turn these sensations about in her mind and sighed, "I do not think I will be able to complete this part of the mission with any of the villagers."

"That is very surprising, Lieutenant. Were none of them appealing enough to you?"

"Nothing to do with them," she explained, reaching up to tug a shell from her hair. "I am afraid my own personal emotions have...intervened."

"I see," the Commander said with a nod. "Then how about a different village?"

She blinked, surprised. "I thought you said—"

"The village I'm referring to is an entirely different experiment. I told you the first village we came into contact with was a complete failure. A group of young ones from that village fled, and they are currently hiding in the forest. They are not aware that we are aware of them, and it has made for a rather interesting culture. They have a very intricate system worked out, you see, and I think it is about time for them to join the outside world again."

"Surely they have hostile feelings toward us."

"They are all very young, quite impressionable ages in fact. I believe the reason they work so well together is because of their inane admiration of their leader; children have a need to please those they look up to, you see."

"Their leader? Do you mean to tell me, if we are still discussing the mission, that you want me to have relations with a child? I would have to refuse, Commander!"

"Oh, but here is the interesting part, Lieutenant," they smiled, holding up a finger. "The leader is your age exactly, and of the indigenous I believe he is the most vigorous I have witnessed. Why, for six whole years he has maintained an entire village and managed to keep every single child alive by himself. I am sure you are aware how unforgiving Earth can be, and from the young age of twelve this man has protected these children with no benefit to himself. Of any of them, he would be most desirable to benefit humanity."

.x.

It was the second night they had not appeared, and he allowed himself to settle down into carving a piece of wood into the shape of an animal. Crickets drowned out the sound of tired snoring, filled the darkness with white noise and flattened everything to normalcy. The night was hot, and again he was taken by the urge to peel off his clothes and allow his burning skin to breathe. Sweat dribbled down his forehead, caught in his hair, collected at his fingertips, and he had to wipe his hands once or twice to keep the bit of wood from slipping.

When the sound of twigs snapping reached his ears, he was already halfway done. For a second, he let himself assume it was some wolf stalking the ground for critters, but his body tensed and his breaths shortened. He knew what sound made what now, and years and years of experience reminded him that no wolf dared go near those Sky Freaks any closer than he did.

The noise had come from their direction.

Without moving the rest of his body, his gaze flickered down toward the trampled path they had begun to make.

His heart tore right up to his throat.

There, standing in the middle of the small clearing, was a woman wearing a white uniform, with the unmistakable shape of a sword at her side.

A Sky Freak—staring right at him.

He couldn't tell what her expression was, but her eyes seared holes right into him with their intensity, and she did not look away for a second. His mind hurried for something to do, unsure now that it was actually happening; every plan of action he had mapped out in his head fell to pieces and he was scrambling for the first thing that came to him in the heat of the moment. He grabbed up his spear, rose to his haunches, and waited for her to make the first move.

When she didn't, he decided he wouldn't take any chances on her.

And so he flung himself from his perch, prepared every muscle in his body for the impact, and landed directly in front of her, balancing on the balls of his feet before pushing himself up to his full height.

The bewildered expression on her face only lasted a fraction of a second, but it was enough to feed his ego. It made his confidence inflate and his lips stretch into a grin and his nerves ease. The darkness blurred out her features enough he could hardly make out the color of her pale hair from her skin, made her angles sharper and finer and something less than human.

She might as well have been.

He swung the spear in his hand, and the movement caught her gaze, eyes following the tip carefully. In one move, he took hold of the spear with his other hand and snapped forward, fully intent on piercing her ribs.

She twisted, grabbed at the spot between his hands and held firm. She jerked him toward her, and when he didn't budge she moved closer.

He could almost smell her hair. He nearly caught himself doing it.

"It is not the same," she said, voice surprisingly soft. "That fisherman had beads at the tip."

"The fuck you going on about?" he snapped, yanking free from her. Part of him was a little shaken now knowing she could speak the same language; he was so sure her kind could only speak in gibberish.

"How vulgar," she commented, circling him slowly. "The commander told me you were a fine specimen and I am afraid I may disagree."

"The hell you doing?" he growled, jumping away when she reached out to touch his back. Her fingertips traced his arm, left a tingling behind he shoved down and away. "Stop doing that—why aren't you attacking?"

"I have no intentions of harming you," she said calmly, moving to stand before him again. "None of us do. You can drop your guard now, you will only hurt yourself—"

"Fuck you," he snarled, aiming the tip at her throat this time. Her wrist knocked it off balance at the last second, free hand snatching up the front of his shirt and pulling him toward her. He let go of the spear, barely heard it clatter to the ground, and grabbed her by the shoulder to keep her at arm's length. His other hand snatched the small blade from her belt and angled it at her throat. "I'm not fucking around here, lady."

"Neither am I," she murmured, still so unnervingly calm. "I will not harm you and I will not harm those children."

His stomach flipped. "How did you—"

"They have always been aware of you. They know why you ran here, they know how old you are and how young they are. They know what kind of person you are, how you have raised those children, what you do to survive." She blinked her wides eyes up at him, hands relaxed at her sides. "They left you to your own devices because they wanted to. They—"

"Shut. Up." He pressed the blade deeper into her skin and she watched him warily. "Why are you talking about them like that? You're one of them."

"Would you like to hear about me? I figured keeping things impersonal would work best, but if it puts you at ease. I am Lieutenant Nelliel Tu Oderschvank, loyal soldier of the Galactic Alliance. Six years ago I was dispatched from home base to assist on a mission on the planet Earth. A base was made here six years ago, you witnessed its coming. I arrived yesterday and intend to fulfill their mission to the best of my abilities."

He couldn't wrap his mind around a single word of what she'd just said, grasping at the first question that came to mind. "What's the mission?"

"To produce a new generation of superior humans."

"Through what means?"

"Procreating with the humans on Earth."

His mind worked fast, searching her face frantically, before everything clicked together and he dropped her blade, too. Backed away as if he had been burned. "You mean—they want to—they want to use us as breeding cattle?"

Her brow furrowed. "Everything will be consensual."

"My ass! You really think anyone would agree to that?!"

"They already have," she stated, watching his mouth snap shut. "The fisherman village by the sea. They have readily agreed to fulfill their part of the mission."

"Then why are you here?" he demanded. "If they agreed to it, why are you botherin' us? You do realize most of these kids aren't any older than fourteen, right?"

She leveled his glare, eyes unreadable. "But you are."

.x.


	6. Chapter 6

It was not as if she did not realize what her part in the mission would entail. By all means she understood why he was so completely adverse to the very idea—there was obviously a reason why he had avoided her kind all these years—but of the both of them there was no arguing she would be doing the more difficult job.

"You being the male, you would only have to impregnate me," she had said, watching carefully as his scowling face colored. "You have no obligation to the offspring after that. Realistically, it would only take a few minutes to get it over with."

"Is that all?" he asked, gaze moving toward the spear still on the ground. "We fuck, and nine months later you pop out a mini us?"

She tried not to flinch at his way of putting it. Rarely had she ever been exposed to such language, and considering how much time he had spent alone and surrounded only by children, she had to wonder if he even bothered censoring himself around them, or how he knew the words and their meaning in the first place. "That is the gist of it, yes."

"So, what's gonna happen to us?" he asked, snatching the spear up but holding it harmlessly at his side.

"Us?" It had not occurred to her that he would want to maintain a relationship with her.

"Us," he reiterated, nodding back at the trees.

"You and the children," she caught on, relieved. "You will no longer be bothered. Once you fulfill your part of the mission, you may go on living peacefully."

"No more patrols out here."

"No more."

"I want access to the ocean."

"You already have it. We are not stopping you from—"

"Cut the shit. I want you to promise me we'll be safe from you freaks."

Her brow furrowed. "If it comforts you, I will personally see to it you are all protected from...my kind."

"Alright." He swung the spear onto his shoulder, slid his wrist along the top to balance it. He leaned his weight on one leg, and it made her eyes follow the line of his body; there was no arguing he was, at least physically, a fine specimen. "We doing this?"

"Now?" Her eyes snapped back to his, made out the darkening of his cheeks.

"What, you waiting for the stars to align or somethin'? Why not now?"

"How impatient," she commented, stooping to pick her blade from the ground and slide it back into place. "I have to report back first before I take any action."

"Then get to it," he sighed. "And don't go assuming shit, I'm not in any hurry to jump your bones here. Just wanna get this over with."

"You do not want the children to see you with me," she said, ignoring his sputtering retort. "I understand that. But I do not plan on doing this during the day, either. I have other duties to attend to, I would rather prioritize those."

"Then tomorrow night."

"If I get confirmation by then, yes."

"And if you don't?"

"I will return either way."

"We just won't be fucking."

She was grateful she had her back to him; she did not want him to see her grimace. "Whatever happens, get some rest. Even if it is not tomorrow, you need to be in the best condition—"

"I'm healthier than you, guaranteed," he interrupted, turning on his heel to stride back toward his trees. "Live and eat off the ground, so to speak."

"Do you eat enough meat?" she asked, somewhat insulted.

"Considering the pickings, yeah."

"Do you drink enough water?"

"All there is to drink, really."

"Do you—"

"You said this 'commander' of yours called me a fine specimen, right? You ain't gonna believe 'em?"

She frowned. "It may have been an exaggeration. Just make sure you get eight hours of sleep tonight. I will be back come night fall with any news."

"Don't you feel like you're getting' the short end of the stick here? You have to carry around a kid inside ya for nine months."

"I am aware of that," she said slowly, unsure of where he was taking this.

"I mean. I only have to deal with you for one night, really. You're gonna be reminded of me every single minute of every single day." He gestured toward her abdomen with the spear. "My kid's gonna be keeping you up all night, my kid's gonna be fucking with your body—"

"I know that," she cut him off. "And I agreed to it."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"It seems to be bothering you much more," she said, and his mouth snapped shut. "How do you know so much about this? You were only a child when you abandoned your village."

"I was twelve, and I was the oldest kid." He shrugged flippantly. "I remember a lot of shit. Remember when some of these kids were still in their mom and I remember hearing about how it all went down. Used to get pulled aside by a lot of grown-ups tellin' me about grown up shit, and it wasn't like there was all that much privacy then. Saw a lot of shit, too."

"You know how it works," she said. "I will not have to teach you anything."

He eyed her. "I was twelve, didn't get the chance to do anything myself and I sure as hell haven't tried anything with these kids. Ain't planning on it, either, so. I've got no experience."

"Unsurprisingly. We will set up some ground rules tomorrow, if need be. For now—"

"Rest. Yeah. Got it."

As she walked back to the base, she pressed her palm over her abdomen and tried not to let his words sink in too deeply.

She would seek out the Commander immediately to obtain her next orders.

.x.

Sleep did not come easily that night, the heat lifted in through the floor boards and sewed itself into the crevices of his flesh so tight he thought it'd never part from him. He kicked the blanket free from his legs. A sheen of sweat soaked through and he slithered out of his shorts as well. An owl spoke for the first time that evening from a far off treetop, spotting its prey. Grimmjow listened, wiping at his hairline, for the fine swoop of its wings spread wide.

There was only so much time before the sun rose, already he could feel the night creatures shuttering back up into their burrows. He pinched the bridge of his nose, rolled onto his side, and decided he'd be getting no rest tonight.

There was too much to think about. Grimmjow stewed in a pot of mixed feelings, a hundred things toiling at the pit of his stomach. Flipping themselves over and over until all at once, nausea rose from the base of his throat and he had to clench his teeth to keep from throwing up all over his floor. He couldn't wrap his head around it, and again he wished he could wake from what must be a terrible nightmare.

He wiped at his mouth with the back of his arm and rose to his feet, finding his discarded shorts and whipping the sheet from his doorway to step out into the waking morning. He moved toward the edge to pull at the ropes drawn above him until a woven basket of fruit found him. He plucked a few from the bundle and returned the basket. The kids would not wake for another hour, if he let them. And today, he decided to let them.

How could he make sense of last night? How could he believe a word out of that freak's mouth? Six years he had spent, reliving that wretched night. Watching his people be erased from reality, a cloud of dust swallowed by the earth. He had retraced his steps a dozen times, the color leeched from the trees, the roots softened under his feet. Nothing looked the same, but his old home still stood. So covered in vines and leaves and roots he could hardly recognize it, but there it was. The same windows, the same doorways, the same flattened space where they'd first landed.

Grimmjow perched atop the trees, searching along the horizon first toward the mountains, and then toward the sea. He couldn't make out the beach, where long ago as a child they'd taken him to catch squirming, shimmering fish in their nets. He couldn't make out their ships, but he knew they were there. Where else could they be? Enormous as they were there was nowhere else to keep them. He wet his lips, and took a bite out of an apple.

That Sky Freak, already her name escaped him. Appearing out of the shadows like some dreamed image, a ghostly white at the edges. He had never seen any up close, and she'd been close enough to touch. Large, lively eyes. A shapely mouth. A heart-shaped face framed with long, thick, tumbling locks of hair. Grimmjow didn't want to think her attractive, but he couldn't stop staring. Couldn't help being broken down by awe.

How could they look so much like themselves?

Nothing made sense. If the Sky Freaks had no intentions of harming them, why had they slaughtered his entire village? What purpose could it have served them?

He flung the pit toward the sea, and didn't watch it plummet toward the ground long before it ever reached it.

He didn't know if he could go through with it. But he did know that he couldn't let this one slip away, he couldn't let the opportunity to dissect their motives escape his grasp.

What did they want here? Why had they left him and the children to their devices for this long? What could they have gained from it?

There was so much at stake, so many things he was burning to know.

Grimmjow finished the second apple, wiped his mouth, and rose from his perch.

.x.

"Excellent news, Lieutenant," the Commander praised. "I had had no doubt in you from the start."

It was early in the morning, sleep had swallowed her whole as soon as she had shut herself within her cabin. She had awakened with a jolt, eyes crusted and mouth dry. Surprised to find herself one of the first to wake, Nelliel scoured the ship until she found the Commander, discussing some sort of blueprint in some out of the way part of the ship she was not privy to. The blueprints were ushered away, the Commander's attention set full upon her with a quick, sharp smile.

She cleared her throat, trailing after the Commander as that attention was at once transferred elsewhere.

"I…have some doubts myself, Commander," she confessed, recalling last night's events. "He had seemed quite…obstinate. He seemed to have a few misconceptions as a result of his sheltered upbringing."

"I should think so," the Commander said, pausing at a panel to activate its screen. It came alive immediately, and under a few taps it opened up a file for them to see. "In never making contact with him we had undoubtedly allowed him to form his own opinions of us. We are strange, unknowable things to him. Young as he was when he first arrived, he must have woven countless, fanciful theories about us. Young minds are wrought with creativity, are they not?"

Nelliel grew silent, watching the images on screen. The photos captured him, growing over the years. A little boy with an unkempt tuft of hair atop his head, smudged and sunken cheeks, and a ribcage stark and prominent underneath his brown skin. Some of them captured a few of the children, on the periphery, much smaller than he. Tiny things, growing round and fat while he grew thin. The older he became, the better he seemed to become at correcting this. The more adept at hunting, at providing. He grew lankier, sturdier, more carved into by survival. At the age she presumed to be fifteen, he had begun to misshapen into adulthood. Shoulders broadening, face speckled, muscle forming as it should. The last photo, he sat on the edge of some home built into the treetops butchering some poor beast with a stone. His hair, sheared to the scalp, his figure shrouded with much more fabric than she'd found him in last night. It was a colder season, the blood smeared his hands and snot collected underneath his nose.

Nelliel turned her gaze to the Commander, who was watching her carefully.

"Where did he come from?" she asked, and the Commander turned away at last. "Why was he made to endure?"

"He lost his home," the Commander finally said, switching off the panel. "He could rescue only the children. Admirable, is it not?"

Nelliel did not answer.

"Now, I gather you would like to discuss your next course of actions. Informing him of his role was the right thing to do. We must prepare you, and make certain the fetus will take. It has been years since we have procreated, naturally, and as you can imagine we did not bring with us the proper equipment to do as we have come to. We must…make do."

"What am I to do?"

"We have collected a few files on ancient medications and remedies used to ease the process, as well as conferred with the fisherman village as to what techniques suit them best. You are the only female participant on our side. We cannot afford to lose you in the process, just as we cannot afford to lose the child that may come about."

.x.


End file.
